Of Sea and Sky: Part 8

            “You’re silent as stars,” Caspian said, coming up the cliff behind Lani on one evening when fall was very near. The sun clung to the sky, casting its desperate fingers over the water, over Lani, over Caspian.
            “I found it,” she answered, corralling her hair over one shoulder so that it would not whip him in the face when he came near. From within the fold of her voluminous robes, she withdrew a coarsely wrapped object.
            “You found what?”
            “The wish.”
            Caspian took it with fumbling hands, wondering why the feeling behind his sternum felt more like desperation than joy. He had to see it. And then he did. It was a piece of glass.
            “Something of sea and sky,” he murmured, smoothing fingers over it.
            “Made by lightning, smoothed by the ocean.”
            “How is it a wish?” He handed the shining glass back to her.
            “I’ll show you.” Her voice was very sad.
            Lani held up the mirror toward the waning sun, which glinted off the ocean-polished surface to catch the eye of the last of the summer trade boats. There was a series of flashes in return.
            “If I flash back, they’ll come for us.”
            Though she made a move to do just that, Caspian’s hands were in the way.
            “Don’t.” His heart was tapping enthusiastically against his chest, and when he looked at the boat, all he felt was sickly sweet dread.
            “You said we’d wish for the same thing, in the end. All I want is to stay here. With you.”
            Though the muscles of her face wanted to stretch with contentment, Lani held them in check.
            “I’d go with you, if you went,” she clarified. Caspian shook his head, terrified now. Without thinking, desperate, Caspian’s hand darted out to take the glass and throw it into the sea. It gleamed like a falling star as it went.

The End


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